


With Me Till the End || Hobbit Holiday Exchange Gift- Bagginshield

by AnironSidh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, At least no one dies, BAMF Hobbits, Dragon Sickness, During The Hobbit, M/M, No Tauriel, Spoilers for The Hobbit, Thorin Is an Idiot, Tumblr Prompt, bagginshield, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnironSidh/pseuds/AnironSidh
Summary: For squeezylemonPrompt: Preferably no Tauriel, Bilbo and Smaug as enemies, fluff, sfw, and subtext like in the movies. I hope I achieved that last one, but I'm not entirely sure.Enjoy!





	With Me Till the End || Hobbit Holiday Exchange Gift- Bagginshield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squeezylemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezylemon/gifts).



#  2941, Winter, Erebor

 

    Bilbo Baggins stood outside of the hidden door, staring into its depths. The rest of the Company was a few feet below, waiting. Behind him, Thorin Oakenshield stood stock-still. He hadn’t said anything for quite a few minutes, the silence oddly comforting to Bilbo. He knew there had been a tremendous change in the way he was treated by the dwarf, something shifting. 

    “Be careful, Bilbo.”

    The hobbit turned with a smile. “I’ll be quick and quiet as a mouse. Don’t worry about me, Thorin.”

    Said dwarf looked around them quickly before he gathered Bilbo in his arms. Bilbo held onto Thorin’s braids to pull himself up into the kiss he gladly received. It was moments like this he had come to love about the adventure, often hidden away in a corner somewhere with his dwarf. In Laketown, while the feast was raging on, they had sat in a bedroom upstairs while Thorin braided a bead into his hair. Once they had eventually come downstairs, purses of money had flown across the room. Bilbo had been furious about the Company’s bets. Thorin had only laughed. 

    “Stay safe.” Thorin murmured quietly. “Come back to me.”

    “I will,” Bilbo said, and then darted down the tunnel. He ran until the light had faded behind him and then slowed to a walk. There was a different glow now, something  _ wrong _ in it’s light. He crept farther down the tunnel and gasped at the sight before him. 

   The space he stood in seemed to stretch to the sky. Golden light filled the chamber, reaching to the limits of the room. The treasure was piled up as high as he could see. Bilbo stepped forward onto the nearest pile and winced when coins trickled down it. 

    A pile began to rise behind him, the clatter of coins deafening his ears. He turned to it just in time to see the creature. Reddish scales were the first thing he saw beneath the gold. 

    Smaug smiled, or at least it seemed like he did. He stretched and faced Bilbo. “Greetings, thief in my domain,” he snarled. Bilbo stumbled back. He hastily bowed, a mere formality. Offending the dragon was the last thing he wanted to do. Bofur’s tease of being burnt to a crisp still rang in his mind. 

    “I assure you I am no thief, Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy. I-I have merely come to gaze upon your magnificence,” he stammered. The dragon watched him for a moment, perhaps sensing out a weakness. 

    “Indeed?”

    Bilbo gulped. He slowly began to back up, searching around him for what he been hired to find. The fabled white light of the Arkenstone was nowhere to be found. For all he knew it was buried many feet below him. 

    “Of course, O Smaug the Magnificent.”

    The dragon laughed, a terrible sound. “But you have not, now have you? You are not alone. I can smell the stench of dwarves upon you, thief,” he hissed, “And Oakenshield’s fear most of all. Is he afraid for you? Would your death bring him great pain?”

    Bilbo stumbled backwards. Part of the reason for bringing him was the absence of dwarf scent, and Smaug had known right away. The dragon smirked. 

    As he moved away, a glint of something bright caught his eye. The glow was as a star in the darkness. A part of Bilbo recognized it instantly. 

    The Arkenstone. The descriptions of Thorin and Balin had not done it justice. It drew him towards it, reminding Bilbo almost of the ring in his pocket. Smaug was busy crowing about himself. His gaze was off somewhere above them. Quickly, Bilbo reached out and stuffed the stone in his pocket. 

    Smaug turned back to him then. “Well, halfling? How then do you choose to die?” he hissed. Bilbo raced away just as a jet of fire reached the heels of his feet. He winced but continued running. The dragon roared at him as he disappeared up the tunnel. The final jet of flame chased him up to the door, singing the hair on his feet. 

    Luckily Thorin was there, and Bilbo crashed into his arms. The chattering of the Company was overwhelming for a moment until they noticed him. Thorin set him down gently upon a smooth rock and Oin bustled forwards. 

    Fili and Kili rushed to sit on either side of him. He waved off their repeated queries of ‘what happened’ and ‘are you alright’. 

     “What on earth did you do, laddie?” Oin muttered. 

    Bilbo shrugged. “I suppose I rightly pissed him off, but at least I got away with more than I took in.” he replied. The dwarves turned to him in confusion. Bilbo reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the Arkenstone, cradling it in his hands. The dwarves stared at the light in his palms. Thorin reached out for it slowly. Bilbo hesitated for a moment. The odd shine in his eyes gave him an uneasy feeling, as if of a forewarning of something  _ wrong. _

    The stone had disappeared into Thorin’s pocket before he could blink and the shine was gone. The dwarves began to set up camp and plan their next move. Balin sat beside Bilbo and pulled the full story from him, Ori writing it down in front of them. All the while, Thorin stood on the edge of the group. Bilbo set up his roll alone and crawled under the meager blankets. 

    Bilbo had nearly just nodded off to sleep when he felt a heavy weight settle in behind him. He had been pulled into Thorin’s chest before he could string two thoughts together. He turned to bury his nose in his dwarf’s tunic, reveling in the warmth every dwarf seemed to radiate. 

    “Are you truly alright, Bilbo?” Thorin whispered into the hobbits’ curls. 

    “A little singed, but I think I’ll live,” Bilbo replied, clearly smirking if his tone was anything to go by. Thorin frowned. He had seen far too many lives lost from burns after the dragon came. 

    Before he could say anything Bilbo had already fallen asleep. His slow and even breaths calmed Thorin, and soon both were dreaming, but of very different futures. 

  
  


    Bilbo was immeasurably glad when he had finally found a spare bench. Around him men and elves bustled around, busily setting up camp. Dwarves had made their own just past the Men’s encampment. He could see guards patrolling the area around where he knew the Durins lay. 

    A sudden sob burst from his throat. It was impossible to stop the tears, and so Bilbo cried until someone sat down beside him and laid their hand on his shoulder. 

    “Is everything alright, Mister Bilbo?” Sigrid asked him in a soft voice. He shook his head, the only response he could manage. She simply nodded and offered him a square of cloth that must have been white some time ago. He took the handkerchief with a grateful, though watery, smile.

    Bilbo sighed. “I honestly don’t know,” he murmured. Sigrid simply sat beside him until his sobs subsided and he was left with the occasional hiccup. 

    “They will be alright, believe me. You must believe it too, okay?”

    “I suppose I must. Oin says if they make it through the night they’ll live but…”

    Sigrid nodded. “You are still afraid for them,” she replied. 

    Bilbo stood up after a few minutes. Someone called for Sigrid with a message from Bard and she rushed away after giving Bilbo a quick hug. He watched her leave and turned towards the dwarven camp. 

    It was time. 

 

    The air was heavy inside the tent, thick with the smell of blood. Bilbo resisted the urge to cough. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, the tent lit by a single torch beside the bed. 

    “Thorin,” he whispered. The dwarf blearily opened his eyes as Bilbo rushed to his side. 

    “Bilbo.” Thorin reached out in his direction and Bilbo held his hand in both of his own. Though his skin was still the grayish pallor it had been on the battlefield Oin’s medicine seemed to have begun to help. 

    “I would have visited earlier, but-”

    Thorin smiled. “It’s alright,  _ ghivashel, _ ” he murmured. Bilbo jerked back at the endearment. He had not heard it, or any like it in fact, ever since the dragon was killed and they freely entered the Mountain. Thorin had been enamored with the gold in his grandfather's’ treasure. It had hurt, seeing the gold sickness take the good and kind dwarves he knew and warp them. Even cheery Bofur had lost his usual demeanor. Fili and Kili had changed too in some way Bilbo could not define. 

    At Bilbo’s movement, Thorin’s smile fell. “I know I have apologized before, but I owe you a second for the hurt I have caused,” the dwarf said, rushed. Bilbo shook his head and leaned closer. He pressed their foreheads together, copying a gesture he had seen often among the Company. Thorin grasped the back of his neck to hold him close for a moment and then to pull into a hesitant kiss. 

    They seperated, albeit reluctantly, a few moments later. Bilbo stayed close. When Balin opened the tent flap a few hours later he found the hobbit curled delicately into Thorin’s side to avoid his wounds. He simply smiled and left the two to sleep. Mahal knew how they needed the time to heal. 

 

    The battlefield was still healing even a year after the battle that had further ravaged the plain before the Mountain. The dwarves had begun to prosper as in the days of old, Dale was nearly halfway rebuilt and the forest was becoming more of the Greenwood every day. 

    Inside, dwarves and men alike bustled around in preparation. The last decorations were thrown up hastily. The true commotion was in the Weaver’s guild. Runners were sent with rich-looking clothing bags up to the Royal Wing. Two nearly matching one were delivered to the rooms belonging to the princes and a large dress bag to their mother. Two more, one with boots and one without, headed further down the hallway. The runner knocked on the intricate doorway.

     The grumbling from inside was the only hint before the door was opened. A mass of golden curls was the first thing to be seen. Bilbo Baggins poked his head out of the door, clearly irritated. He took the offered bags and turned back into the room. 

    “Have they arrived?” a voice called from the next room. Bilbo sighed. He dumped the bags on the bed beside his husband and glared. 

    Thorin smiled at his hobbit, who grumbled, “Yes, the dratted things just got here.”

    “Relax, ghivashel,” he said softly and laid his hand on Bilbo’s arm. The hobbit huffed, glared, and then deflated. Thorin chuckled. 

    “It’s your coronation, and I’m the one worrying.”

    “Indeed,” Thorin nodded. He pulled his outfit out of the larger bag and then Bilbo’s out of the smaller. He smiled at Dori’s clear influence of the similarity their outfits had. His own was more along the lines of a traditional crowning outfit, but his husband’s outfit was clearly cut in a hobbit fashion. The hobbitish vest accompanied a more dwarven shirt, and the pants were of a dwarven design but a hobbit cut. 

    Bilbo fussed in front of the mirror for a few moments longer until another knock came at the door. Balin smiled warmly, handing Thorin a box that appeared very ancient indeed. Bilbo was surprised to see a new crown inside. It was made of silver and mithril, obviously devoid of gold, and decorated with acorns and oak leaves. 

    They were joined by Fili and Kili at the end of the hallway and Dis found them a few yards later. 

    In later years, Bilbo could never remember the walk to the main hall. Much like when he had married Thorin, the getting there was all fuzzy. He could remember Gandalf stood at the top step in front of the throne and that every dwarf of Erebor and Men of Dale and Laketown crowded around the edges. An elven contingent was visible on the edges. 

    And so King Thorin Oakenshield the Second was crowned as King of Durin’s Folk before his people. He reigned for many long years until his elder nephew Fili took the throne. The former king and his husband left for the Kindly West, there to live for the rest of their days. 

  
  


~2,088 words

 

Note: I hope the recipient of this work enjoyed it, and that everyone else did as well!


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